


bluh

by unpredictableArtist



Category: No Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2015-10-05
Packaged: 2018-04-24 06:49:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4909465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unpredictableArtist/pseuds/unpredictableArtist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>this work:<br/>a) actually belongs to the magisterium series fandom, but i dont want it showing up there because this<br/>b) is not a complete work! it is only posted so that my non-a03 friends/co-authors can read it<br/>it is essentially a few snippets from here and there that were trying to turn into a thing</p>
            </blockquote>





	bluh

**Author's Note:**

> ok guys here have your sapfest

It’s burning.

The smoke threatens to choke him, and it’s so hot he feels like the skin is going to melt straight off his bones. Call wonders where he is, what awful place can be this scalding.

He opens his eyes, and his mind is unable to compute what he sees.

The first thing he registers is red. Red, everywhere- flickering in the hearts of the fire that stretches across the ravaged ground, stretching all the way to the horizon, glowing so bright it feels like the sun set on this very land.

Call's mouth opens in a half-choked gasp of shock. Then he notices the bodies, and has to close his mouth in fear he'll throw up.

They’re all mages. Adults, teenagers - are those some Silver Years he sees over there? – and children, Iron Years and kids even younger than that. Call almost screams when he recognizes some of them- there’s Assemblyman Graves lying not two metres from him, the right side of his head cracked open. Over there is- oh _god,_ that’s _Master Milagros-_

A terrified sob sticks in his throat.

What the _hell_ happened here?

He tries to focus on something, anything, that isn’t bloody and unmoving. He can’t find anything to look at except the sky, and that is covered in a suffocating layer of smoke that makes him feel like he can’t breathe. There’s _so much blood_. A vivid crimson, deeper than the bright flames, it covers the dead like a blanket, soothing them in a sleep they’ll never wake from. The smell overwhelms his, pungent and metallic and _awful,_ and he feels dizzy.

Call jumps when a familiar voice screams from behind him. Relief rushes through him as he starts to turn around- _he’s here, he’s okay, we can figure out what happened together-_

He finishes his spin, and almost screams himself.

Aaron, blood-stained and looking exhausted but terror-stricken, throws himself on the ground next to a body. He scoops it up in his arms, flipping the person over, begging in a teary voice- “please, no, come on, you can’t be gone- _please- TAMARA-“_

Call chokes out a half-formed _“no.”_

But it’s _her,_ it’s the girl he’s known for almost three years now, it’s the broken necklace from her sister she used to treasure, it’s the twin braids she used to curse out and struggle to detangle every night, it’s those brown eyes that always held a mischievous twinkle, it’s the violet drop earrings he and Aaron clubbed together to buy for her birthday because she liked them so much, it’s her and it’s Tamara Rajavi and

she’s

d e a d

.

Aaron is sobbing now, tears cutting a path through the stains on his cheeks, letting out whispered “ _no”_ s and pleading for her to come back to him, _please._

Call thinks he’s crying too, can’t be sure, because he can’t feel anything, because his body has gone numb and he can’t believe that Tamara is dead. A voice in his head screams at him to _move, dammit, she can’t be dead, you have to make sure._

He tries to take a step forward, and rues his body’s sudden regaining of feeling because GOD he did NOT want to feel his foot press against something soft and firm.

He forces himself to look down. He can’t stop a cry escaping from his mouth, tears welling up in his eyes and blurring a sight he never ever wanted to see.

There are bodies at his feet, lying in pools of their own blood, eyes still wide in fear and sadness, and he _recognizes_ them.

Call tries to block out the reddish blurs, raises his hands to his face to cover it, and feels something gripped in his right hand.

He looks down at it.

Miri sits in his hand, comfortable and warm as though he’s been using her for a long time.

Her blade is covered in fresh, warm blood.

He tries to drop it, release his fingers- a scream of terror hesitates at the tip of his tongue- but his body won’t _move_ and he can’t _breathe_ and oh god he used this blade on someone and there are bodies at his feet and Tamara dead in front of him and no, no, no no no no nonononononONO _NONO-_

**_NO!_ **

Aaron’s hiss of rage pulls Call away from his thoughts, though his hands won’t stop shaking and his vision won’t focus (oh god what has he d o n e ?).

“Call- you-” Aaron spits, and Call flinches away. _This is not his friend._ “How could you- how could you DO THIS?!”

Aaron’s voice rises to a shout at the end, and suddenly he’s flying up at Call, eyes burning with an odd hate, teeth bared, shadows dripping from his fingertips- Call stumbles back, his mouth opening in a fear-filled protest, the hand holding Miri flying up to defend himself-

-and then there’s a howl, and Aaron goes down under a blur of familiar brown fur, and piercing screams fill Call’s ears as Havoc viciously defends his master.

For a short while, Call isn’t sure exactly who is screaming. All he knows is that he shouldn’t just be standing there, he has to protect Aaron, Aaron who is his _friend_ and he’s on the _ground_ and Call’s own wolf is _ripping him apart,_ Havoc, _STOP-_

But by then it’s too late, and Havoc is just sitting peacefully on what was once Call’s friend, tail wagging like a dog’s and panting happily and looking up at Call like the wolf wants praise.

Call can’t think can’t breathe oh god _Aaron is dead_ oh holy freaking j-

Someone claps behind him, slowly, loudly. The horrible heat (Call almost got _used_ to it, how odd) increases tenfold.

Call nearly stops breathing- don’t turn, don’t turn, _don’t do it-_ but he turns anyway.

A man stands there, well-built and tall. His clothes are strangely neat, a clean light grey against the red and brown of their surroundings. His hands applaud slowly, almost sarcastically. Fires creep around his feet, but he doesn’t seem to be aware of them.

Call keeps his eyes down, trying to focus on his clothes and the flames- it’s almost like he knows what he’s going to see if he looks up, and something in him tells him he does. But a sick curiosity makes him give in, and he lifts his eyes to the man’s face.

The man looks surprisingly young- he’s probably in his twenties. His dirty blond hair sweeps low over his forehead, looking almost brown in this light. The messy fringe almost obscures his cold eyes. There’s a glittering black stone on his ear, and Call knows instantly that it’s made of onyx- the mark of a Makar. A sadistic smile stretches across the mage’s face. His burnt, scarred face.

Call’s heart almost stops. He _knows_ that face.

The man steps closer- _clap, clap, clap_. His hands drop to Call’s shoulders, gently holding them, and he leans in to whisper something in Call’s ear as the flames start to surround them both, licking at the younger mage’s feet.

_“well done, callum.”_

The fire rises up and engulfs the two of them.

_“you’ve won.”_

 

-and you shoot up in your bed, sweaty and terrified with the name _constantine_ at the tip of your tongue.

Havoc raises his head sleepily from his position on your feet, his large body warm, and you shove at him with a cry of fear. He whines but makes his way off, padding up the bed to your pillow. His enormous warmth presses against you, large and familiar, and you curl up against him and press your face into his fur. A sob rips its way from your throat, then another, and more follow until you’re full-out crying.

Then suddenly there’s a sharp knock at your door, and you jump.

“Call?” a voice asks.

You let out a strangled gasp.

Aaron. _Oh god._

“Call, are you okay?” he asks, a note of worry in his voice. “Call!”

There’s a short pause, and then “I’m coming in.”

You hear the doorknob turn. Havoc perks up beside you and jumps off the bed.

Aaron pushes open the door, and Havoc flings himself on him.

Terror cuts through you like a sharp knife, and a scream tears its way past your lips- you have to stop Havoc, you have to protect Aaron, Aaron who is your _friend_ and he’s on the _ground_ and your wolf is _ripping him apart,_ Havoc, _STOP-_

Havoc whines at you. You blink, and the blood fades. Aaron is lying on the ground, face still wet from the wolf’s enthusiastic licking, eyes wide as he stares at you. Tamara is at the table, standing in front of her chair like she just jumped out of it, butter knife clutched in her hand like a weapon. You feel fur under your fingers and realize your hands are clenched tightly around Havoc’s collar, holding him away from Aaron.

The world is absolutely silent for a single second.

Then you let go of Havoc, and he whines and flees past Tamara’s legs to hide under the table, breaking the silence.

You blink, trying to pinpoint your surroundings. Then out of nowhere Aaron is jumping up, pulling your smaller frame against his taller one, wrapping his arms around you and whispering something in your ear.

You have a vague idea that you should be comforted, should feel safe in his warm hold, but suddenly all you can remember is Aaron jumping up at you, chaos swirling in his hands, teeth bared, ready to _kill-_

-and you’re crying out, you’re shoving him away, backpedalling rapidly into your room and slamming it shut in his scared face. You turn around and lean against it, sliding to the ground, and press trembling hands to your face. For a second it looks like they’re covered with blood, but you blink and the crimson spots disappear.

You’re reminded of that woman from one of Shakespeare’s plays, Lady Macbeth, and you let out a hysterical chuckle. Then another, your laugh breaking in the middle. Then suddenly you’re sobbing again and-

You can’t breathe right and you can’t think straight and you don’t know what’s happening anymore and it _hurts._

~

You tell them it was a really bad nightmare later, and refuse to give details, saying you’d rather not relive it. They can’t argue with that, but their concerned looks plague you throughout the day.

 

 

 

You look at Celia again, eyes wide with fear.

“ _Please,_ Celia,” you whisper.

Her eyes harden, and she hisses through gritted teeth, “I don’t know you, Enemy.”

Your throat tightens, and you try not to let your voice crack when you scream into the Chaos-ridden-filled forest, “ _DISTRACT THEM!_ ”

Then you twist around, summon the air to carry you, and blast away into the forest.

 

You struggle to keep your balance in the wild winds. Then Aaron shouts for you to get down, so you throw yourself to the ground instinctively.

It would have been a good way to avoid the earth spell Master Rufus was aiming at the elemental, had a gale not struck him full-force in the back and knocked him over. The spell strikes the ground instead, and it shudders wildly, throwing you straight into your fellow apprentice as you both let out loud shouts of shock.

Master Rufus is on his feet again before you know it, binding the air elemental with chains of rock until it dissipates. The wild earth spell seems to die down, but you realize it’s only moving away from you and towards another location when you hear the tell-tale rumbles of an impending landslide.

You’re relieved for half a second- you’re not in the path of the slide, thank god- but that relief is replace by ice-cold fear when you hear a scream of terror.

The scream gets abruptly cut off a second later, and oh god you know that voice.

_NO._

 

Your awareness returns to you like the tide- in small, gentle waves, creeping up on you slowly. Soon it’ll be on you and you’ll have to respond to it. But for now, you’re willing to just be a spectator.

You’re vaguely aware of your father’s arms wrapped around you, holding you close. Carrying you? You don’t know, don’t care.

There’s voices in the background. Dad is there. You hear two worried voices. Lilting, familiar, comforting, but you can’t quite identify them. They’re too quiet.

But beyond that. There’s. Someone- Who-

The tide comes in.

_Master Rufus?_

Terror fills your veins like blood, your legs scream in pain, and you black out.

 

You sit up slowly, waiting for Alastair to finish settling you in the new position.

“You can look now,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice.

You look, and all you register is two huge grins before they jump on you.

Aaron is warm around you, his strong arms holding you securely in a hug. Tamara’s familiar voice is whispering in your ear, telling you how thankful they are that you’re okay. You smile and hug them back, relieved to know that of all the people at the Magisterium, at least they’re not against you.

Still, when you pull back and make eye contact, it takes you a few seconds before you can really look at Aaron.

The voice in your head screaming _DESTROY THE MAKAR_ was too loud.

 

You wake with a gasp, sweat beading on your forehead and making your shirt stick to you.

Sarah Hunt’s face is burned onto the inside of your eyelids, and her defiant yell rings in your ears.

 

They want to separate you from the others.

Tamara and Aaron are yelling in the main room next door, trying to convince Master Rufus to talk to the Assembly one more time. You absent-mindedly wonder if they’ll ever give up, or if Alastair will give up trying to make you eat something.

You shake your head at him again, pull the blanket closer, and try not to rub at _(the burns on)_ your face.

 

Your eyes want to close, but you force them to stay open. Your ears still hurt from the screams.

Your hand drifts over Miri’s blade and you wonder idly what would happen if, instead of using the blade on innocents, you turned it on yourself.

 

Havoc won’t stop howling.

From what you can hear, he’s in the main area of Call’s isolated room, but your friend isn’t making the wolf stop. He doesn’t respond when you hammer on the door. You remember his hunched shoulders, his defeated expression, and when you think of how he looked calm- almost _happy_ \- at dinner tonight, worry pricks at your heart.

You can hear Havoc scraping at the door. It’s like he wants to get out, to tell you something, but a door and a species bar him from delivering his message.

Jasper says he’ll try to calm Havoc down while you and Tamara get Master Rufus, since he’s the only one other than Call that can open the door. You reluctantly agree _(you don’t want to leave, what if something happened to Call?)_ , and you leave with Tamara.

Master Rufus listens to your quick words with a frown, and he comes with you back to Call’s separate room. Jasper, with the aid of Celia, has somehow managed to get Havoc down to a long whine. Master Rufus has them move as he opens the door.

Instantly, Havoc’s on you, tugging at the fabric of your pants gently. You follow him, a sick feeling building in your throat, as he leads you to the closed door with Call’s name on it and starts pawing at it.

Your hand reaches out tentatively for the handle, but Tamara gets there first. She pushes, and the door swings open.

You see the blood, see the knife, and you scream.

 

Your eyes open, and the ceiling of the Magsterium infirmary hangs above you.

You don’t understand.

Why?

 

Why?

Why would he do that? He couldn’t possibly have been that far gone, couldn’t have been that depressed that he tried _that_. Why the hell would he lose hope like that, when you were there for him? Why didn’t he come to you, or Tamara, or his dad, if he was feeling lost? Why did he think that the only possible option left was- was- s-

oh, god.

 

Why?

Why did they do this to him? They could see, they were watching him so obsessively, they knew that he wasn’t doing well, knew that he was spiralling downwards- so why did they let him push himself this far? Why did they let him take that knife to his own wrists?

Why did they let Call almost _KILL HIMSELF?????_

You-

can’t.

 

You don’t want to be here.

You hear voices, but they’re hazy. All your senses are weird and dulled. You’d be thankful, but then you think about how anyone trying to talk to you must feel, and you feel sick.

You close your eyes. It’s too bright- the brightness of the light is the only thing that isn’t dulled- but you don’t tell them that.

You’ve imposed on them enough. A wave of guilt hits you.

You make them worry over you so much, god. They shouldn’t be worried. You’re- you’re awful, you’re a murderer, why can’t they just let you go please _you want to die._

 

You ask them to let you and Tamara talk to his father.

You can see something in Alastair break when you tell him, haltingly, that his son took a knife to his wrists and barely survived.

He doesn’t break _down._ No, he _breaks._

You spend an hour trying to convince him not to assassinate every member of the Assembly.

 

(Honestly, with the exception of Master Rufus and your parents, you wouldn’t have minded helping Call’s dad.)

 

Through your haze, you hear someone mention the name Alastair.

The dark, bitter voice in your head tells you that Alastair Hunt is Callum Hunt’s father.

You acknowledge it, and try to sleep.

Maybe you won’t wake up this time.

 

He sleeps _so damn much._

You don’t have classes right now; Master Rufus said something about traumatizing experiences and blood and taking time off, so you and Tamara don’t have to do anything at all for a few days.

You have the options of going to the Library or playing some games, but you elect instead to sit at the far end of the infirmary and watch Call.

He sleeps all the time, and when he wakes up, he won’t eat or drink. They have to get hold of an IV bag and hook it up to him, the kind hospitals use for coma patients. Something tells you Call is really close to a coma patient himself.

The only really big things he ever does is wake up with a jerk, gasping and struggling for breath. The nurse has worried over him a few times when he does that, but he always settles out on his own.

You want to go to him and hug him, comfort him, tell him you’re here for him, but when you tried that the results were not good. Tamara got close to tears and started talking a little louder than necessary, but then his breathing got weird and he started tearing up and letting out choked sobs and he was generally not acting okay, so you don’t do that anymore.

…

…You miss Call.

 

Call’s asleep when Alastair arrives.

You have first-row seats to the breakdown.

You break down yourself, pressing your face into Aaron’s chest and crying. You feel the tears dripping on your hair and know he’s in the same state as you.

Alastair joins you in your silent vigil.

Kimiya shows up to tell you that she’s made sure your parents stay away for now.

You thank her. You really don’t want to see them right now.

She returns a pair of purple earrings that she says she accidentally took from you when you last met.

You look at them and lose it entirely.

Call gave you those for your birthday.

 

The voice tells you how utterly worthless you are, how useless, you couldn’t even freaking kill yourself properly you freak.

You agree, and regret having to be such a burden.

The haze clears up somewhat when you hear a familiar voice pleading with you day after day to please wake up.

You open your eyes after a long time. You’re met with Alastair’s stressed, tired face. You see his eyes light up a second before you shut your own again.

The voice tells you how disgusting you are, you shouldn’t be here, look at how much you’re hurting your own father.

You agree, and regret having been born.

 

(BASICALLY AFTER THE WHOLE FIASCO, WHEN CALL HAS THERAPY SESSIONS WEEKLY AND HAS BEEN TAKEN OUT OF THE MAGISTERIUM. AARON AND TAMARA STILL STUDY THERE, BUT THEY LEAVE DURING THE BREAKS TO GO VISIT CALL)

 

Alastair smiles at you and Aaron when you visit, weary but relieved. He tells you Call lies in his bed most of the time, awake but unmoving. He leaves the house only for his therapy sessions, but on his good days he gets up on his own, moves around the house a bit, and sometimes even takes Havoc for a walk.

You ask how many good days he’s had lately, and Alastair doesn’t answer.

 

Alastair tells you that on his really bad days (which apparently happen way too frequently), talking to him helps him out of his haze. According to the metal mage, he reads aloud to Call from books they both like. Magic is an okay topic, but Call’s mom and stories about the Magisterium itself are strictly off limits.

You put this new information to use immediately. When Call doesn’t get up in the mornings for breakfast, you take it to him, sit down, and start spinning stories out of silly dreams you have. Your words are quick and enthusiastic as you get into the story, telling him tales of another world where five spirits survive on their own, knowing something is missing inside them. Call is a witch’s son living in the middle of a forest, Havoc his only companion. You are a knight, shadows swirling at your fingertips as you travel through kingdoms to find your destiny. Tamara is a princess living in a tower, and the dragon is her pet. Jasper is the Dragon Princess’ childhood friend, now a lonely prince of an abandoned land, gemstones of granite in his crown. Celia is the ruler of the wood nymphs in Call’s forest, a circlet of delicate flowers woven into her golden hair.

Call starts sitting up when you come in, blinks at you in something that almost resembles eagerness when you open your mouth to begin where you left off. He sits wide-eyed when you tell him about how you jump off a cliff and trust him to catch you at the bottom. The side of his mouth quirks up in a half-smile when you speak of the enormous castle Princess Tamara once called home.

He starts asking questions. His voice is rough and unused, and at first you can barely make out what he’s saying, he’s so quiet. But slowly, he gets more confident, and you almost laugh with delight when he starts bugging you repeatedly to elaborate on parts of your crazy story. You oblige him every time.

It’s one of Call’s questions that starts you focusing on Prince Jasper and Lady Celia more, because according to him you’re spending way too much time on Sir Aaron and the magical prodigy Call and the Dragon Princess Tamara. You actually find it fun to talk about these two side-but-not-really characters and their own little escapades.

You go back and detail their half of the story from when you all got separated in the Caves of Sol. You narrate the epic story of Lady Celia calling the very earth to fight when she was stuck in a circle of enemies. You tell him about the time Prince Jasper and Call have to fight together, seconds away from being killed, and how they make it out _together_. His eyes light up, and you grin despite yourself.

You tell him of how the five of you finally defeat the evil Lord of Light, how Princess Tamara’s dragon takes you home- but not home to Tamara’s tower, not Jasper’s castle of ruins, not your large house in a city that seems so far away now- no, home to Call’s large house in the Silver Forest, home to Celia’s sheltered tree.

You tell him how you all live together, happy at the end, that little hollow part inside each of you filled with love for your newfound family.

He grins, and your heart soars.

 

Over the span of your time with Call, you learn a few things:

First, Aaron is a _really_ good storyteller.

Second, wow you would really like to be called the Dragon Princess.

Third, Call is fighting against the sickness. Slowly, carefully, one step at a time, but progress is being made and that’s all you need to know.

You listen happily to Aaron’s tales when Call is feeling down. On his okay days, you willingly sit with him and play board/card games in silence (you play poker with small chocolates, and Call wins them all fair and square); sometimes Aaron gets hold of a movie and the three of you + Alastair + Havoc watch it together. When Call is feeling a bit better, you make quiet conversation and walk around his town together. He points at places and tells you stories about them (that’s where I got my phone, that was the playground where I cracked the ground open), and you smile at his little tales.

When the time for his therapy sessions rolls around, he asks you to stay behind. As much as you want to be there for him, you let him go.

He comes back looking much better, and is much more open to doing things instead of going back to bed. You’re glad that the therapist helps.

 

Then one afternoon, he doesn’t come back on time.

You wait for half an hour. Not even a text.

You frown and call Alastair- hey, Mr Hunt, is everything okay? He tells you yeah, things are fine, they’ll be back soon, Call’s just talking to Mia for a little longer than usual. You say who’s Mia? He says Oh, Mia Sinclair is Call’s therapist, she’s an old friend of mine who’s a mage. You say exactly how many mages do you know outside the Magisterium? He tells you all of them. You ask all of them? He says, ok, not all of them, this conversation is getting off track. You say but Mr Hunt, you really want to know, because from what you’ve seen so far you think he has some kind of mage detector. He says he’ll get home soon, you can all discuss his amazing socializing skills later, right now Call is leaving and oh my god his son looks so happy he has to go sorry bye.

You stare at the phone, and Tamara raises her eyebrow and asks you what’s wrong.

You tell her Call actually looked happy, not the fake happy front he puts on for his dad sometimes, and her eyes widen.

 

You matter.

You whisper the words out loud to yourself, testing them.

“I matter.”

Alastair looks at you in the rear view mirror, startled. “Did you say something?”

You shake your head and offer him a wide smile. Then you dip your head and mumble them again, over and over.

_You matter._

You see Aaron and Tamara when you get home, standing outside on the doorstep. You jump out to meet them, a wide grin on your face, and no injured leg can stop you from running to them and hugging them until they can’t breathe.

 

HE’S GREAT HE’S HAPPY HE’S FINE CALL IS FINE AND THE WORLD IS BEAUTIFUL

 

ohmygodhesokayhesokayhesokay

 

One hour, you feel great. The next, you realize how much you must have hurt your family and your friends over the last few months, and your mood takes a steep nosedive for all of five minutes. Then Aaron comes running into the living room and attempts to throws himself on the couch, missing entirely and landing on you.

You let out an ‘oof’ and struggle to push the heavy idiot off, but you only manage to roll him over. He looks up at you with an adoring grin, and you can’t help but be happy again.

You hug him and apologize anyway. He laughs and tells you it’s alright and calls you bro.

 

You think you understand what he’s saying sorry for, but that doesn’t matter anymore. All that’s important is that he’s here now and he’s happy, and you tell him as much. Then you tell him Tamara got a Frisbee and is waiting outside with Havoc, and run outside with him.

 

You’re together again, and this is quite possibly the best day of your life.


End file.
